


Homemade Truffles and Paper Roses

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Cheriks [27]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Valentine's Day Fluff, look I don't know okay it's been Bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: The problem with Valentine’s Day, Erik thinks grumpily to himself, is that chocolate always tastes shittier.





	Homemade Truffles and Paper Roses

**Author's Note:**

> might fuck around and write a second part, idk

The problem with Valentine’s Day, Erik thinks grumpily to himself, besides the usual problematic shit, is that chocolate always tastes shittier.

Charles, however,_ loves _Valentine’s Day. They’re not even dating, but if Erik doesn’t give Charles a valentine, he pouts. He says the exchange is only fair.

Since Charles gives everyone he knows (and a few he doesn’t) elaborate Valentine’s Day gifts, Erik thinks it entirely _un_fair that he seems to be the only one on the list who seems to be _required_ to give a token of friendship. Raven skipped five years in a row and Charles didn’t make a peep. Emma has never returned the favor, and Charles still makes sure to pick out some very lovely wine for her every year. Erik has never seen her thank Charles, but she always saves the wine and only drinks it on special occasions, and he has definitely caught her smiling as she drinks.

Alex sends little packages of Chinese sweets, from San Francisco’s markets. Darwin gives Charles cacti, because everyone knows Charles can’t keep flowers alive, but cacti flourish in his care. Sean sporadically sends very glittery over-the-top sappy Valentine’s cards, and Charles always proudly displays them, every February. Charles’ students give him new ties; it’s a joke that Charles loves.

Erik never gets Valentine’s Day gifts, except from Charles and the twins. And he knows that the only reason he gets two cards is because Pietro (Erik has special permission not to call him Peter) pesters Wanda every year to make an effort. If not for their sense of duty, they wouldn’t bother.

Charles gives him the usual fruit and candy (no chocolate) and a handmade card in his neatest copperplate handwriting, with a personal note wishing Erik well, and sometimes little extras. Like a steel watch that Erik can wind with his mutation. Or a set of enamel pins that say “Mutant And Proud” in Hebrew. Or a toy goat, a reproduction, to replace the one he told Charles about in a drunken spate of misery.

Erik tries to be just as thoughtful. The way Charles smiles at him when he hands over the gifts makes Erik forget for a minute that they’re friends, and want to lean in for a kiss.

But they are friends, and Erik isn’t going to ruin that with unsolicited kissing.

His paycheck has been cut, so he can’t afford the gourmet truffles that Charles likes. Erik scowls and grumbles and decides to make truffles on his own. They won’t taste as good, but maybe the fact that he worked for hours to get them right will smooth the waters.

He makes them from scratch. Kosher, sustainable sourced, not-harvested-by-slaves cocoa, because Mama’s ghost would return from the dead to scold him for using anything less; other ingredients from local sources, mostly the mainland; berries he grew himself in his window for the filling. He uses silicone ice cube trays, square and round, and makes a huge mess, trying to get everything right. He does it eventually, though. And Erik proudly, carefully wraps each individual truffle in gold foil, and sets them in a black jewelry box he snagged at Dollar Tree.

Then he forgets to wash his hands and smudges the card all to hell, but he grits his teeth and reminds himself that it’s just a card. It doesn’t mean as much as the chocolates. The smudges give the boring cream card some character.

Then he realizes that he did not make Charles the traditional paper rose.

That’s been their thing since they met ten years ago. Erik had been annoyed about Charles’ Valentine, so he made a shitty paper rose and gave it to him in a kind of “See how much I don’t give a shit?” way. But Charles, being Charles, had loved it. And over the years, Erik’s learned to enjoy making elaborate paper roses. But there’s no time now. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, and Erik is never late for Valentine’s, never.

Stay up, lose sleep, possibly mess up the rose, make it on time?

Stay up, lose sleep, do the rose properly, be late?

Just go to bed and make the rose in the morning, and be extraordinarily late?

Erik feels sick just trying to decide. He wants everything to be perfect. But he doesn’t want Charles to have to wait a single second longer than usual.

A glance at the clock decides him. It’s 2AM. He’ll just have to be late.

Feeling sick as a dog, Erik cleans up and slumps off to bed.

~

He sleeps in, and repents by making five roses. Four of them are a little lopsided, but the fifth is as perfect as he can make it. Then he bundles up and heads out.

It’s not snowing, but it’s windy. Erik leans into the wind and stubbornly walks to the bus stop. The roses and chocolates are in his briefcase, protected from the elements. He hopes it doesn’t start snowing soon.

Just as he has that thought, a gentle grey-white shape floats down close to him, and melts with his breath.

Grimacing, he pulls his scarf tighter and takes his place beside the seats. Maybe the bus will arrive before the sleet comes.

It does, barely. And by the time Erik has changed buses, walked to Charles’ apartment building, and stepped into the lobby, the weather is the typical New York freezing hell. He grumbles as he stomps to the intercom, and buzzes Charles.

“Erik!” Charles’ voice is fuzzy through the intercom, but there’s undeniable happiness in his tone. “Come on up, Timothy’s off-duty but you can work the elevator.”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s fine! Just hurry up, it’s cold down there.”

Erik smiles reluctantly, and walks to the elevator, opening it with a careless wave of his hand. He still feels guilty, but now he can feel the soft brush of Charles on the edge of his mind, and his spirits rise. Erik hates when Emma touches his mind, but Charles feels good. Right.

Erik steps out of the elevator on Charles’ floor, and is, as usual, a little annoyed by the opulence of the hall. But he knows Charles has removed every scrap of opulence from his own home to make it more accessible, and that’s good enough.

Charles’ door pops open before Erik is halfway down the hall, and Charles wheels out to greet him, grinning. Erik can’t stop himself from smiling back.

“Come in, come in!” Charles says, softly, though. “Before Mrs. Belladonna decides to get another peek at you.”

Erik hurries, and soon they’re inside Charles’ plain apartment, with its yellow walls and mismatched furniture and the smell of roast beef in the air. Erik relaxes. He likes it here. Not just because Charles lives here, but because it feels safe.

“First, I’m sorry I’m late,” Erik repeats, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his hat and scarf, as Charles wheels into the kitchen. “I stayed up too late making your Valentine’s Day present.”

Charles stops and twists to stare at him blankly. “Valentine’s Day?” he repeats.

Erik frowns. “Yeah. It’s February 14th. Didn’t you notice?”

Charles blinks. And then he goes beet red and looks absolutely horrified.

“Oh—oh, no, I’m sorry, Erik, I’m sorry, I completely forgot, I’ve had so many appointments lately, I know that’s not an excuse, but—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Erik drops the briefcase and hurries over to bend down and hug Charles, rocking him gently. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just Valentine’s Day, it’s fine.”

“But you made something for me and I forgot—”

“Charles, kindly shut up for a minute.”

Charles shuts up.

Erik hugs him a little tighter. “It’s fine, Charles. Did you remember to take the beef out of the oven?”

“Yes,” Charles mutters, snuggling closer. Erik smiles and lets some of his happiness in just being here with Charles drift down their mental connection.

“Then it’s fine. You can make it up to me by going to dinner with me tonight.”

“Everything’s busy tonight.”

“We’ll go early. In the meantime, I brought you chocolate.”

Erik lets go, reluctantly, and fetches his briefcase, taking it over to the cluttered dining table. Charles wheels after him, still looking guilty—and then Erik takes out the roses and gives them to Charles, and the smile that spreads across his face utterly transforms him. He touches the tissue-paper petals gently and looks up at Erik with shining eyes. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Erik takes out the box and holds it out. “You might hate these.”

Charles takes the box, curious, and opens it. And then he gasps in delight. “You made me truffles?! Oh, we are going anywhere you want for dinner and I’ll get you two desserts!”

Erik grins, his face feeling distinctly warm. “What if you don’t like them?”

“It’s the thought that counts, silly.” Charles gazes at him like he’s hung the moon, and fuck if Erik doesn’t enjoy every second of it. “I… I’m still sorry I forgot. But thank you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments = life, love, and happiness


End file.
